


The Antivan Bean

by dwarrowdams



Series: Rogues Do It From Behind [18]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Coffee Shops, Fluff, Food, Gen, M/M, also the fuck word is in here, so read carefully if you're bothered by that, which is the only non ~general~ thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 16:11:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14719355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwarrowdams/pseuds/dwarrowdams
Summary: Gilan and Zevran slip out one morning to get some proper Antivan coffee.  Set after rescuing Anora but before the Landsmeet.





	The Antivan Bean

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for all the hits/kudos on "The One Where They're Up (Almost) All Night"!! The response to it has been much more prominent than the responses to my other fics and that warms my heart bc that was one of my favorite Gil/Zev pieces I've ever written.
> 
> I can't say when I'll update next—I'm in the process of looking for a job now that I've finished my master's and will probably be moving, plus I have two other original(ish) projects that I'm working on—but I'm glad that people still seem to be enjoying this series, despite my sporadic updates.
> 
> Also, it seems weirdly appropriate that my first fic since finishing graduate school would be about coffee.

Somehow, Zevran had managed to get both himself and Gilan up and out of the estate early enough that no one would notice their absence.  It had been difficult to force himself up before the sun had even risen—and even trickier to convince Gilan that what he’d planned would be worth it—but Zevran was certain that his and Gilan’s discontent would be short-lived.

 

Once the two of them were ready, he led Gilan out of the Palace District and into the Market District, which was relatively quiet in this early hour.  The two of them made good time and could easily maneuver between the merchants who were still setting up shop and the few customers who had ventured out so early.

 

As the two of them turned off of the main district into a narrow side street, he noticed Gilan’s head drooping forwards and his feet stumbling over nothing more frequently than normal.

 

“Are you okay?” Zevran asked him as he reached out to touch Gilan’s wrist.

 

“Tired,” Gilan replied.  “I hope that wherever we’re going has something to wake me up.”

 

“It should,” Zevran said, not bothering to conceal his grin as the stopped in front of a small and out of the way building.  “Here we are.”

 

They stopped in front of a small shop tucked away in the Market District with a sign that read  _ The Antivan Bean _ .

 

“Coffee?” Gilan asked, his eyes alight.

 

“Better,” Zevran replied.  “Antivan coffee—and brewed properly at that.  It took a bit of trial to find, but I wanted to show you how it could taste when everything’s done properly.”

 

“Maker, you’re the best,” Gilan sad as he pulled Zevran into an embrace.

 

“It is really the least I could do for either of us,” Zevran said.  “Both of us have needed a break quite badly over the past few days. I just also happened to be craving a little taste of home and Adela—the woman who owns this place—is from Antiva City as well.”

 

“It’s perfect,” Gilan replied before he released Zevran from his embrace.  “ _ You’re _ perfect.”

 

“Don’t speak too quickly,” Zevran said.  “Just wait until you taste the coffee.”

 

He led Gilan into the shop, lacing their fingers together as they approached the counter.

 

The woman behind the counter smiled at them as they stood before her.  “What can I get for the two of you?” she asked.

 

“Adela, yes?” Zevran asked.

 

She nodded, clearly pleased that Zevran had remembered her name.  “You were here a few days ago?” she asked.

 

Zevran nodded.  “I wanted to test the coffee before I brought my partner here.  This poor man has never had proper Antivan coffee and I wanted to make sure I found someone who knew how to brew it the right way,” Zevran said as he gave Gilan’s hand an affectionate squeeze.

 

“I grew up in Highever,” Gilan said in way of explanation.  “I never knew what it was supposed to taste like until I met Zevran.”

 

“Still a shame,” she said, shaking her head in mock sorrow.  “Thank the Maker you are somewhere where you can remedy it.”

 

“We plan to—two coffees in the biggest size you have,” Zevran said.  “And surprise us with a couple of different pastries; by the time we tried to decide by ourselves, the coffee would be cold.”

 

Adela in approval, smiling warmly at them.  “I should have those out for you soon,” she said.  “Go ahead and have a seat while you wait.”

 

The two of them sat down at a table near the front of the shop where they could easily watch the people passing by out the front window.

 

“Thank you for this,” Gilan said as he reached out to take Zevran’s hand in his.  “I know it might not seem like a big deal, but it’s nice to be able to do something that feels normal for once.”

 

“Good—that is exactly what I wanted to do,” Zevran replied.  “You have been through too much lately; making your feel normal for a minute is the smallest thing I could do.”

 

“We’ve both been through a lot,” Gilan said.  “I’m just glad that I have you to get through it with me.  Knowing that we’re in this together makes it feel less like suffering.”

 

Zevran laughed softly.  “It certainly does.”

 

There was a brief pause as each of them glanced around the shop, taking in its decor.  It was largely wooden with bursts of color via the art on the walls and the bright fabric flowers at the center of every table.

 

“How did you find this place?” Gilan asked. “It isn’t exactly on the routes we normally take around the city.”

 

“I asked around,” Zevran replied. “It took a bit of trial and error to make sure I found somewhere that knew how to brew coffee properly, but it was not terribly hard.  Besides, it kept me busy when you were away. Or when you were here but needed to meet with Tirzah and Alistair about important Warden things.”

 

“Good—I’m glad you found something interesting to do,” Gilan said.  “I’m even more glad that it involved finding good coffee.”

 

Zevran nodded in agreement.  “Everything is better with coffee.”

 

They stopped talking as Adela approached the table with their order.  “Here you are,” she said as she set their coffee and pastries down on the table.  “Let me know if you need anything else.”

 

“Of course,” Zevran said, smiling at her. “Thank you.”

 

She nodded before returning to the counter, leaving the two of them to gaze at their breakfast in amazement.  It was only a small spread, but the two of them admired the sugar-dusted pastries and mugs of dark, hot coffee before moving to touch anything.

 

Zevran’s gaze drifted over their food once more before shifting up towards Gilan.

 

“Aren’t you going to try it?” he asked.

 

“Of course,” Zevran replied.  “I just want to be sure I don’t miss the look on your face when you take your first sip.”

 

Gilan raised his mug in a mock toast.  “No pressure, then,” he said before taking a sip.

 

Zevran watched intently as Gilan’s eyes drifted shut, a small moan of pleasure escaping his lips.  “Oh fuck, that’s amazing,” he murmured half to himself before taking another sip.

 

“So you like it, I presume?” Zevran asked.

 

Gilan nodded before he took another sip.  “It’s the second best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth—you being the first, of course.”

 

Zevran chuckled before taking a sip of his own coffee.  He’d tested the brew here before—Maker forbid he bring his partner to an establishment brewing mediocre coffee—but he’d forgotten how excellent it was.  The woman in charge certainly knew what she was doing.

 

“Oh fuck, this is good,” Gilan murmured after another sip.  “If this is what proper Antivan coffee tastes like, I have a feeling I’d like the country.”

 

“I am sure you would,” Zevran replied.  “It is a good deal warmer than what you’re used to, but there are plenty of wonderful things: the sunsets and the ocean and the food—much more flavorful than it is here in Ferelden.  Not to mention the smell of Antivan leather or the sounds of the merchants hawking their wares…”

 

“Maybe we can go someday,” Gilan suggested.  “It is your home, after all, and I want to see it.”

 

Zevran shook his head.  “It is not my home anymore,” he murmured.  “Home is with you.”

 

Gilan stared at him for a moment, clearly surprised by Zevran’s response.  “Thanks, Zev,” he replied. “I feel the same way—nowhere could ever feel like home again if you weren’t there.”  He paused to take a sip of coffee. “Still, I’d like to travel there with you. I’ve barely left Ferelden and now that I have the freedom, I want to see everywhere with you.”

 

“That sounds perfect,” Zevran replied.  “Now there are only the minor setbacks of dealing with Loghain and killing the Archdemon.”

 

Gilan waved his hand dismissively.  “We’ll figure it out somehow,” he said.  “And by ‘we,’ I mean Tirzah.”

 

“I’m sure she will,” Zevran said.  “And until then, we can enjoy ourselves—and our pastries.”

 

The two of them eyed the two treats sitting on the plate before them: one with a hole in its center and glazed with some sort of icing and another sprinkled with sugar and what looked like cinnamon. 

 

“Which one do you want?” Zevran asked.

 

“Let’s split them,” Gilan suggested.  “There’s no way I could decide between them.”

 

He carefully broke the two pastries in half, handing part of each to Zevran before taking a bite of one himself.  The glaze balanced perfectly with the sweetness of the pastry and blended beautifully with the coffee’s harsher aftertaste.  He hummed appreciatively once he’d swallowed his bite.

 

“What do you think?” Zevran asked

 

“Amazing,” Gilan said.  “Not as good as the coffee, but it’d be a marvel if it was.”

 

Zevran nodded in agreement as he bit into his half of the same pastry.  “Mmm, this is wonderful,” he murmured. “I cannot remember the last time I had proper Antivan sweets.”

 

“My brother had them at his wedding—not these exactly, but something like them,” Gilan said.  “I doubt they were prepared by someone who knew the process, though—I think our chefs just used a recipe.  They were still delicious, but...there’s something different about a pastry made by someone who’s been part of the culture.”

 

“Mmm, that is true,” Zevran replied.  “Perhaps that is why Alistair refuses to eat whenever I cook—there might be a bit too much of Antiva when I do it.”

 

“That’s just because he has no tolerance for spices.”

 

Zevran shrugged before taking another sip of coffee.  “His loss, then.”

 

They continued to eat and drink at a leisurely pace, chatting on and off until they were nearly finished and the warm colors of sunrise were in full bloom outside the window.

 

“We should probably leave soon,” Zevran said one they’d both finished their pastries.  “It will take longer to get back than it took to get here and it’s probably best if we get back to the estate before anyone can miss us.”

 

Gilan nodded in agreement.  “Everyone’s been worried since we got back from Fort Drakon—I’d rather not worry them anymore.”

 

Zevran discreetly popped the pastry crumbs into his mouth as Gilan drank the last dregs of both his and Zevran’s mugs of coffee, after which they stacked their dishes neatly at the edge of the table.

 

Adela came over just as they were getting up and preparing to leave.  “The two of you enjoyed yourselves, yes?” she asked.

 

“Of course—everything was perfect,” Gilan told her.  “Thanks; I hope we’ll be back soon.”

 

She smiled at them.  “I am glad to hear it,” she said.  “I will keep an eye out for the two of you.”

 

“It won’t be long, I hope,” Zevran called over his shoulder as he and Gilan exited the shop.

 

The two of them made their way back towards the Palace District a little more quickly than they had earlier.  It was busier than before, but they were still able to make their way through the Denerim streets with relative ease.

 

“Hopefully it is early enough that no one noticed we were missing,” Zevran said as they entered the Palace District once more.

 

Gilan nodded.  “Maybe we can even have a little bit of time alone before Tirzah and Alistair ask us to get up and moving.”

 

“That sounds perfect,” Zevran replied.  “We might be able to catch the end of the sunrise from our window.”

 

“Good,” Gilan said as they approached Arl Eamon’s estate.  “Then no matter what happens today, at least it got off to a good start.”

 

~~~~~

 

A FEW MONTHS LATER

 

Adela didn’t know why she had returned.

 

She knew that her little shop in Denerim would have been ravaged by the darkspawn, but nothing had prepared her for the level of destruction before her.  The business she had spent years cultivating, the building she knew better than any lover, was little more than a skeleton standing starkly against the skyline.

 

At first, she’d been unable to look at it for longer than a few minutes without feeling something inside of herself shatter over and over again.  Still, she made herself return the next day, knowing that she needed to assess the damage to see if the building could be salvaged or if she would need to find some other line of work.

 

As she stepped through what had once been the front door, something in the center of the floor caught her eye: something that appeared to be untouched by the destruction surrounding it.  She approached it carefully and saw that it was a leather pouch with a scrap of parchment tucked on top of it. She picked up the objects, surprised by how heavy the pouch was as she read the note.

 

_ Adela, _

 

_ We hope this helps you to rebuild—neither of us wants to live in a world without your coffee (even if that world is also without darkspawn). _

 

_ Take care—we hope to see you before long _ .

 

Adela frowned at the note, flipping it over to see if there was some sort of signature.  In its place was a doodle of two figures: a human man with long waves of hair that partially concealed the curving tattoos on his cheeks and a male elf, his shoulder-length hair half pulled back, a tattoo adorning the left side of his face.

 

She remembered them: they were a young couple who had come in before the city had fallen to darkspawn.  They’d come in only once, but she could never have forgotten them: not when they seemed so utterly overwhelmed with happiness by the simple pleasures of coffee and pastries.

 

She opened the purse and nearly dropped it on the ground.

 

It was filled to the brim with gold sovereigns: enough to rebuild and then some.  Her eyes began to fill with tears. Adela had never expected anyone to show such kindness, especially not a couple who had only visited her shop once.  It was the sort of thing that she’d heard of in stories that were passed around Denerim from time to time, but not a thing that anyone she knew had experienced—or that she had experienced herself.

 

Still amazed at her situation, she turned back to the drawing on the note and studied the image for a moment longer, realizing where she recognized the human from.

 

Of course—he was one of the Grey Wardens who had slain the Archdemon, putting the Blight to a stop before it had begun to wreak havoc on all of Ferelden.  If she was remembering correctly, he was now the Warden-Commander.

 

But not only the Warden-Commander: he was the younger son of the Cousland family as well.  And somehow, he and his partner had not only remembered her shop, but enjoyed it enough to give her the money to rebuild.

 

For the first time in months, she felt the seed of hope begin to bloom in her chest.  Knowing that near-strangers could harbor such kindness on her behalf made the task of restoring her broken shop in the crumbling Market District seem like a blessing rather than a burden.

 

Somehow, she’d been given a fresh start, and she planned to embrace it.

 

And, when they returned to her shop, she planned to give the couple who’d provided her with a fresh start as much coffee as they desired.


End file.
